


Winter Nighttime

by Fundelstein



Category: Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997), Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children
Genre: Cold Weather, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:49:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26291416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fundelstein/pseuds/Fundelstein
Summary: He just couldn't get warm without her...Originally from Fanfiction.net. Originally published in 2008. And now, somewhat tweaked.
Relationships: Tifa Lockhart/Cloud Strife
Comments: 3
Kudos: 53





	Winter Nighttime

It’s something past three in the morning. Cloud had promised to be home before midnight. Ah, but the snow was falling hard, and the roads were riddled in black ice. He nearly crashed Fenrir twice.

By the time he pulls up to Seventh Heaven, he’s nothing but a block of barely moving ice. His face is numb. His ears are numb. His fingers clench up under three layers of gloves. The snow’s kicking up at his back. He shuffles into the garage as fast as he can.

The heater’s on full blast, but he shivers nevertheless. He doesn’t want to take off his boots, but they’ll be loud against the floor, and the kids are asleep. He leaves them at the door with all of their winter shoes.

Cloud inches up the stairs, past their room, and stops at their door to take a peek. They’re both snuggled up in their blankets. Seeing them that way, he wants to do the same. He bids them a quiet good night and tries not to let his teeth chatter.

Once he gets to _their_ room, walks into the closet and unwraps himself from layers and layers of frozen clothes. While stepping into a pair of sweatpants, he makes a mental note to invest in better thermal underwear. His body is still frigid as he tugs on a thick shirt.

 _Why_ _can’t_ _I warm up?_ he wonders. He trudges off to bed, cups his hands, and tries to blow some heat into his palms. It doesn’t help.

Tifa is laying on the left side, her back facing him. He stands back and takes a moment to look at her. There she is, cozy under an envelope of sheets. She seems more comfortable, more peaceful than she’s ever had in years. He wants to brush the back of his hand against the entire length of her frame. He doesn’t; she probably wouldn’t appreciate being jolted awake by cold fingers.

Cloud slips in carefully and buries his face into the pillow. He turns away, facing the window. The currents are pulled back, and I see the snowflakes coming down. She must have watched the flurries before heading to sleep. The sight of it makes him shiver harder. He curls up into himself, desperately trying to achieve some warmth. His teeth clatter beyond his power.

But then, a pair of arms snake around waist. A very ample chest glues itself against his back. A pair of legs entwine with his legs, a pair of feet rub against his feet. Hot, gentle breathing brushes his neck.

Then, and only then, does he finally get warm.

“Rough roads, eh?” she asks.

“Yeah,” he replies.

“Bummer. Guess you’re not going out tomorrow then.”

He shakes his head. She sucks on his nape, and he feels her smile.

“I told you I didn’t want you going out,” she reminds him. “I don’t like it when you drive in bad weather.”

“Work is work,” he says.

She grinds her body against him. He shivers for an entirely different reason.

“Can’t you take the month off?” She nuzzles his hair. “The weatherman says it’s gonna be like this for weeks.” She plants another kiss on his neck. “Come on. At least until the snowstorms go away? The bar makes plenty of money this season. So… please, Cloud? Please?”

Cloud grunts but doesn’t quite give in. “I’ll think about it.”

This is not good enough for Tifa Lockhart. She clutches him tighter, and her tongue slithers against his ear. She attacks with feather-light kisses and reaches under his shirt, stroking the lower half of his stomach. Then she pulls back on his collar and starts nibbling on his shoulder.

He doesn’t bother to suppress the shudder. “Alright. Alright! No more deliveries until February. Until February!”

Tifa turns his head, puckers her lips against his cheek, and blows a raspberry against his skin. She snuffs out her laughter in the back of his shirt.

“I hate you,” he mumbles.

Tifa snorts. “No you don’t.” She strokes her toes against his ankle. “Wow, Cloud. You are freezing. What did you do? Dive into a lake?”

“It’s not _that_ bad.”

Though, it probably is.

Tifa forces him to turn around, facing her. She yanks up his shirt and frantically rubs her hands against his chest.

“If there’s a silver lining,” she says, “your abs feel harder than usual.”

He chuckles back. “Great. Just what I need.”

“I’m gonna head to the kitchen. Make you a cup of hot cocoa. Or maybe some soup.”

Cloud rolls his eyes. “It’s almost half-past three, Teef. And besides, you’re warmer than any soup will ever be.”

She cups his cheek. “Oh really?”

“Yeah… really.”

Tifa burrows into him and takes his mouth into hers. She pushes, clamping down on his bottom lip, and sucks before letting him go. The heat spreads in the wrong direction. He’s way too tired for _that_.

“Ah, that’s real sweat of you.” She pecks him on the tip of his nose. “But… I’m still headed for the kitchen.”

Tifa sniggers and scrambles for the edge of the bed. She barely avoids his grasping hands. They scrape against her butt as she leaps out of bed. Tired, resigned, and more than a little stiff, he watches helplessly as she leaves the room.

For a few minutes, he glares through the dark, open door. Then he flips onto his back and sighs.

“She’ll be back,” he consoles himself. He smirks and folds his hands behind his head. “She’ll be right back.”


End file.
